Southern Downfall
by Bunny-McStotch
Summary: A story about an English Pirrup girl falling in love with a boy on anti-psychotics (who also has terrible obsessive compulsive weight-loss). (This story contains an original character as the main character. The Pirrup girl isn't a gender swap of Phillip Pirrup.) (This is my first South Park fan-fiction, so I apologise if I get some things wrong.)
1. Full Summary (and Disclaimer)

**Summary**

Annabel Pirrup moved to South Park, Colorado at the age of thirteen - three years after her cousin died in an 'accident'. No one every told her and her family what happened to their beloved Phillip, but after hearing some great things about South Park, they didn't think there would be any harm in moving there from England.

Now, at the age of sixteen, she has a group of acquaintances, one friend, and one 'mental patient' down the street that always needs to be retrained to take their anti-psychotic pills.

What happens when Annabel befriends the trouble boy down the street?

What happens when Annabel begins to fall for both the infamous Kenneth McCormick and the sweet Kyle Broflovski?

How does Mr. Psycho down the street take it?

Whatever the answers to those questions were, Annabel sure wasn't going to like it.

* * *

**Disclaimer**

I do not own any South Park characters or places. They all are owned by the people that created South Park (I have no idea who created South Park. I have a feeling it was Trey Parker and Matt Stone, but I could be wrong).

I do, however, own Annabel and her family (except for her cousin Phillip, he belongs to the South Park creators) and I do own the events that aren't canon (if that makes sense).

* * *

**Warning**

When I said in the small description below the title that he has 'terrible obsessive compulsive weight-loss', I do not mean he has anorexia. He eats well enough, and he doesn't throw it up. It is stated in the second chapter that he just diets (doesn't eat any fatty food at all, but eats a lot of fruit and vegetables) and exercises a heck of a lot. (I just thought I should clear that up before people think I'm not writing anorexia right.)

* * *

**I hope you enjoy the story! :)**


	2. Chapter I

**Chapter One**

**The List**

_Number one._

Those two words stuck in my mind like sherbet to a strawberry Dip Dab lollipop. Writing the list of top ten friends was harder than the other girls in class had made it out to be. They had been muttering about how fun it was to write down who their favourite was, and then writing down the ones they preferred over the others. They had been laughing and giggling about how it only took them one hour, and I had been staring at the words 'number one' for three hours until one potential friend popped into my mind.

Even then, it felt entirely mean to say they were a better friend than the rest - although, they were. Three years ago, after arriving in South Park, Colorado, I had tried to befriend a lot of the people, but they all had their little cliques and none of them were willing to let me into them. A boy named Eric had told me 'a girl can't be' in their group, and a girl named Wendy had told me that they 'didn't know' me 'well enough' to be letting me into their girly clique.

It was understandable. They had all known each other from when they were really young, and it was normal for them to not let some random thirteen year old girl they didn't know into their group. With the boy that many people had referred to as 'Cartman', I didn't want to understand because of his rude behaviour, but I did understand. He didn't want a girl interfering in their talks of girls and sports - that was when I was what I was told by my parents that boys talked about.

_Number one. Tweek Tweak._

Guilt began to bubble up within my gut at the sight of the messy handwriting that was across the paper. It was as if a large stone dropped in my stomach and was attempting to push vomit up through my throat. A gulp slipped down my throat, and it felt like something was stuck in there preventing me front swallowing.

"Annabel," my mother's heavenly voice and the knock on the wooden door that came with it caused my head to turn towards the noise, my forehead creasing as I forced my chair to spin around. If she was going to open the door, I would have liked to have been facing the right way. "Your little friend's here."

"Nngh! I'm not little!" The familiar paranoid voice of Tweek Tweak echoed through the door, the tone of his voice sounding as though he had been offended in some way. My mother probably hadn't meant it in the way that he was a little child, but to her, he was quite young. She even classed me as young.

"Of course not, Sweets." The sound of my mother calling my friend 'sweets' made me shudder in disgust, and it was a bit of luck she had yet to open the door, because I would have surely gotten a lecture from her about how calling someone 'sweets' wasn't creepy.

To me, it certainly was creepy.

Footsteps were heard as what I assumed were my mother's small-heeled shoes clipped across the wooden floorboards of the staircase. The door handle jittered as it slowly turned, and although Tweek liked to do things for himself, I found it quite nasty that my mother didn't open the door for Tweek. Then again, I wasn't much better for just sitting in my seat.

My eyes widened when I remembered the list. It only had one name on it, but if Tweek had seen it, he would become more paranoid than he usually was. My chair spun around and I grabbed the piece of paper on my desk. It crumpled in my hands and I aimed it at the rubbish bin before throwing it.

The ball of paper flew through the air, and my hands moved to my mouth to prevent me from shouting out to tell the ball of paper to land in the bin. Me telling the paper what to do wasn't going to make it do it, the paper was inanimate - it couldn't hear me.

The paper hit the sides of the bin before falling in, and I could have jumped up and danced with joy. It was the most brilliant thing to happen to me yet, and that just proved that I wasn't a bad thrower - although I was when it came to 'baseball'.

My bedroom door creaked open, and I forced my chair to turn so I could look at the door - as though I had just accomplished something that I would never think I would accomplish in my lifetime. Tweek didn't need to know about the list, and neither did my other friends.

The door fully opened to reveal a twitching Tweek, his blonde hair messy like he had been dragged through a bush backwards - which wasn't a surprise. However, unlike when we would meet up or see each other in school, his dark green shirt was properly buttoned up. His parents certainly hadn't done it, and he very rarely buttoned his shirt appropriately. There was only one person that would button his shirt right, and that was the same person that saw all of my friends as children of her own.

My mother.

Tweek simply stood outside of my bedroom as though there was a barrier stopping him from walking in. "Afternoon, Tweek. Enjoying your Saturday?" I asked him with a small smile, trying to hide the confusion running through me.

"I-It's okay, I guess," Tweek stammered a little as he spoke. "Do you want to come out? W-We're going to see a movie and Token's paying."

I nodded my head and forced myself out of the black leather chair, grabbing my bag off of the floor. My mother always said it was dangerous to leave my handbag on the floor, anyone could steal it if they walked in and anyone could trip up it - like she had a couple of months beforehand when she would clean my bedroom for me.

I threw it around me, considering it was a cross body bag, and headed out of my bedroom. The smell of coffee beans entered my lungs and made me fell sick to the pit of my stomach as I moved past Tweek, making me clear my throat to stop myself from gagging.

"Don't fight!" My mother's shout boomed up the stairs from the kitchen, crashing of electrical appliances coming after the shout. A boy's shaky voice was heard after the smash, but the words couldn't be figured out. "Hold him down! Just take it, for goodness sake!"

A sigh escaped me as I closed my bedroom door, locking it with a key. By the sounds of the commotion in the kitchen, it wasn't safe to leave my door unlocked. It would have been my luck he would have ran up the stairs and lock himself in my room, and most likely rip up most of the maps that I had in my top draw of my desk.

I motioned Tweek to stay quiet and he placed his hand over his mouth, twitching as a muffled 'gah' escaped him. No one could know that we were leaving, especially not the boy and whoever else was in the kitchen with my parents. We also needed to get out of the house as soon as possible, especially if we were going to get to that film on time. No way was I going to miss the chance of going to the cinema for free.

* * *

When Tweek and I met up with the rest of Craig's group, I was greeted with a smile from Token, which I hadn't expected. Considering that he had never smiled at me before - he had given me a smirk once or twice, but not a proper smile - it did shock me quite a bit, and that was when I should have assumed that Craig was going to cause some sort of trouble.

"You brought her along?" Craig's voice was harsh as though he hadn't exactly invited me along, which wouldn't have surprised me. Friends of convenience, that all we were, and we both admitted it. I made a note of it.

_Number ten. Craig Tucker._

Clyde gave Craig at look. "Is there something wrong with Tweek bringing her along?" Clyde asked, and I was prepared for Craig to snap at him as well, but Clyde continued even though I had assumed he had finished. "She's our friend too."

_Number three. Clyde Donovan._

"Acquaintance," I corrected with a smile, waving Clyde off. "I can leave if you all want me too. I shouldn't have agreed to come along to a boys' outing, you don't need a girl cramping your style."

If they were having a friends outing just for the 'boys', then I wasn't welcome, and I didn't want to be anywhere that I wasn't welcome. I wasn't a boy and I wasn't really a part of their group, so there was no need for me to hang around any longer than I really had to hang around for. Tweek was my friend, but the rest of them were just acquaintances of mine. None of them really got to know me like Tweek, and I didn't really get to know them.

I hadn't seen the point in trying to get to know people that hadn't asked anything about me. They only acknowledged the fact I was a girl, and the cousin of the late Phillip Pirrup that had lived in the town. No one except for Tweek ask what my favourite colour was or if I had a favourite animal. They knew my first and last name, and that was all they seemed to want to know.

Craig gave me a look of pure hatred, adjusting his blue and yellow hat that I hadn't seen him without since I turned up at South Park. My arms crossed over my chest, my posture straightening to make myself look better. Some of the looks Craig gave me put me on edge a heck of a lot, and sometimes it made me think that it wasn't the coffee and apparent ADD that made Tweek paranoid, it was being around Craig that did it.

"Leave then," Craig said, breaking the silence and the stand off that I'm sure it looked like we were having. He tucked a piece of his black hair that must have been annoying him into his hat before crossing his arms over his chest like I had. "I'm not going to stop you."

I paused, staring at him as though I hadn't heard what he had said or that I was waiting for him to repeat himself. It would have been brilliant if I could have come up with a snark-y come back or a great sarcastic snap, but the more I tried to find one, the more my mind became blank.

One thing I hadn't inherited from my father; I had the inability to be sarcastic.

My cheeks heated as I turned on the spot and nearly bumped into Tweek. He was twitching like usual, like he wasn't fazed on bit by his friend being told that she wasn't allowed to go into the cinema with them all.

I moved past him and began walking down the road towards my house, my trainers lightly tapping on the concrete as I moved. I was used to rejection and I was certainly used to being told that I wasn't welcome, but having Clyde stand up for me was what embarrassed me the most. I would have much rather let Craig's rudeness slide than be defended by someone that was only number three on my 'favourite friends' list.

Rejection was a natural part of someone's life, and as my father said, it built a strong person. Having people defend you all of the time makes you dependent and weak, and that was something I didn't want to be. My father could have been wrong, but there wasn't really a point in chancing it.


	3. Chapter II

**Chapter Two**

**The Boy Collapsed on the Sofa**

My hand wrapped around the cold metal of the front door, my free hand searching around in my cross body bag for my front door keys. As my feet slipped on the icy ground, I yanked the front door handle down, and the door flew open. No noise was heard as it did so, but that could have been the result of my hand still hanging onto the door for dear life.

A small sigh of relief escaped my throat as I steadied myself on the ice, taking a step inside of the house and entering my living room. My eyes were on the floor, staring at the soft creme carpet below me. The welcome mat inside of the house was dirty with mud marks, and there were a few shoes beside it. Two woman's, and two men's.

One pair of the woman's shoes were my mother's going out shoes - since she had shoes she went outside in and shoes she walking around the house in - and one of the pair of men's shoes were my father's, since my mother made him have two types of shoes like her and I. Visitors found it strange, but it was the norm for my family.

My eyes lifted from the floor to see a boy with messy brown hair laying across my sofa, his eyes closed as though he was asleep. His shoes were off of his feet, which would explain why there was another pair of men's shoes beside the welcome mat. His very lightly tanned face shone in the light that was coming through the window, and it seemed slightly sticky - as though he hadn't been knocked out for very long and he had been crying.

My forehead creased as I closed the front door behind me as quietly as I could, wiping my feet on the welcome mat before slipping off my boots and placing them with the others. Waking the boy up would only cause trouble for my mother and whoever the boy was with - since it was obvious he was the boy they were aiming to hold down.

"He's being so rebellious, lately," the sound of a woman's breathy voice came from the kitchen as a clang of a cup hitting a saucer echoed after it, as if someone putting down the cup. "He won't taken them and he's spending so much time in his room. He's jogging everyday and-"

"Calm down, Liane," my mother's voice was slow and steady as the sound of reassurance and sympathy appeared in her tone. "He's still going through puberty, and the medication has its side effects. You'll just have to wait it out and try your best."

The sound of Liane Cartman huffing boomed around my ears as though it was ricocheting off of everything in the house. "I wish I had my little chubby angel back, but now he's starting to worry me. What if he-"

"Don't think of the what if's," my father's voice was the next sound to be heard. "Maybe you should keep him away from his group of friends for a while. You don't know what comments they're giving him while you're not around. Annabel has overheard someone calling him 'fat-arse' recently, that could be what's affecting him."

My gaze moved from the kitchen door back to the passed out Eric on the sofa. Sadly, since he was fourteen, he had been descending out of his obesity and into something much worse. He hadn't just been dieting, but he had been exercising for over fourteen hours a week. Ms. Cartman had been fretting that maybe he would go over the top and perhaps move onto anorexia, and the anti-psychotic drugs weren't helping with his obsessive compulsive weight-loss.

When Eric wasn't in a state where he rarely talked and his mind was quite obviously too blank to think up a response to anything, he would be trying his best to keep up an argument with Kyle, which failed miserably. Walking past him in the corridors of the school was like walking past a ghost or a dead body; he was silent and practically invisible.

My heart sunk at the thought of someone being as mentally ill as Eric Cartman was. On one hand he was a vulnerable teenage boy that had always been called fat and felt as though no matter what he could do, he would always be fat. On the other hand, he was a racist narcissistic sadist that deserved to be on anti-psychotics to keep him from killing Kyle.

Seeing him collapsed on the sofa after he had been crying heavily and being knocked out by my parents make him seem like he wasn't ever that loud mouthed jerk that hated everything and everyone that was different. It almost made me feel sorry for him - pity him.

"Oh, Anne," I flinched when my mother said my name, breaking my stare away from Eric as I looked over at her standing in the door way with Ms. Cartman. "You're home. Eric's just having a little... sleep."

"How did you-?"

"Mom's know everything," Ms. Cartman interrupted me as though she was saying exactly what my mother was thinking, which was creepier than my mother calling my friends 'sweets'._ How does Ms. Cartman know what my mother's thinking? Unless, Ms. Cartman knows everything going on in Eric's mind, so mothers do know everything._

Eric moved in his sleep slightly, and that caused Ms. Cartman's attention as she rushed out of the kitchen and to her son's side. It was almost obvious that she adored her son, even though she spoiled him rotten, she loved him more than she would ever love anything else. It was sad to see a parent worry about their child as much as Ms. Cartman worried about Eric.

Seeing the brown haired boy the way he was, although it did make me feel bad it didn't surprise me. My parents would frequently leave me in the house on my own to go round to Ms. Cartman's to help her sort Eric out. Sometimes I would catch my mother and father saying how bad Eric had gotten, and that was probably through the fact Eric could see he was changing, and the stress of trying to be his normal self was getting to him.

Or so, that was what I had assumed after watching the way everyone acted at school.

* * *

My father had offered to help Ms. Cartman put the passed out Eric into her car and help her get him into her house, but my mother said that it wasn't needed, and that she could help Ms. Cartman do that. It was obvious as to why my mother didn't want my father being alone with Ms. Cartman - she was a nice woman, one of my mother's best friends, but when she was alone with a man, she wouldn't hesitate to seduce.

With that, my mother and Ms. Cartman tried to haul Eric off of the sofa, but as soon as they were able to haul him into a sit up position, they found it hard to get him to his feet. He was a dead weight, which didn't surprise me, considering he was knocked out. No matter how much you weighed, when you were knocked out, you were the most heaviest thing on the planet.

My mother sighed with what seemed like annoyance as she placed a fluffy pale duck egg blue pillow behind Eric's head to stop it from smashing against the wall behind the sofa. My father watched just like I was, and he crossed his arms over his chest as if to say _'I could easily pick him up on my own, without anyone's help'_.

"He couldn't have a concussion, could he?" My question blurted out quciker than I could decide whether it was appropriate or not. The last thing I - or anyone - wanted to do was worry Ms. Cartman.

Ms. Cartman shot a look my way not minutes after I had asked that question. Her eyes were wide as though I had uttered something horrendous, and her eyebrows lifted. It was as if she was pleading me to tell her that I was only joking and that I had no suspicion at all that her darling son had a concussion.

"That's if he hit his head," I quickly said, trying to make it clear that I had no idea as to how Eric passed out, and I was only assuming that he had hit his head - or they had smashed something over the back of his head.

My father rolled his eyes at me as though he was mocking me, that what I had said was totally stupid and that I should have kept my mouth shut. "No, he obviously didn't hit his head. He faints time from to time, for the** fun** of it."

I tried to give my father a death glare, but I failed, only giving him what felt like a confused and puzzled look. My father's sarcasm could be funny at times, but most of the time when he used it, it was either belittling, offensive or just plain annoying. It was a surprise my mother was still with him, considering the annoyance he was.

Then again, I wouldn't know what I would do without him in my life. He was my father, he protected me from the bad people and he always had.

Ms. Cartman then began shaking Eric a little. She wasn't shaking him enough that it looked as though she was trying to give him brain damage, but she was tapping him and nudging him, and muttering his name over and over again as though he was going to be able to hear her and force himself awake.

Her voice became louder by the second, but she didn't begin shouting at any point, as though she was too scared to shout in case it would prove that he wasn't going to wake up. Her voice was shaking just as much as her hands were, and the look on her face was a mixture between worried, panicked and pained.

"It's okay, Liane," my mother slapped her hands away from Eric, placing two fingers from her free hand on Eric's neck to - presumably - check his pulse. "He's pulse feels fine, if he had a concussion, something bad would have happened by now. He can stay on the sofa for a while and I'll drop him round your house when he wakes up."

Ms. Cartman gave my mother a wary look before slowly backing away from her song, a small sigh of what I thought was defeat slipping from her. It was understandable if Ms. Cartman didn't want to leave her son in a strange place while he was knocked out, but in no possible way could my mother and her carry him anywhere.

Ms. Cartman walked over to the coat rack and picked up her coat, putting it on before putting on her shoes. She was taking much more time than what was needed, and she was stopping almost every five seconds for approximately a minute. It was as if she was trying to decide whether to stay with Eric or not.

She turned around and opened her mouth to speak, before quickly shutting it again. Ms. Cartman quickly spun around again and opened the door, walking out and slamming it after her. The noise echoed around as though it was trapped, and even though it was loud, it unfortunately didn't wake Eric up.

After five minutes, once my mother and father was sure she had gone, they both exited the living room and move into the kitchen, muttering and mumbling something about Eric and Ms. Cartman. My father had said something about Eric, and my mother gave him a look that would have killed him if they were daggers.

My father only laughed in response. My head shook at the many thoughts of what my father could have said as I made my way up the stairs, every step creaking as I stepped up them. My father could be quite insensitive at times, but he had a heart somewhere underneath that hard shell - I was sure he had one. If he didn't, I'm sure he wouldn't have married my mother.


	4. Chapter III

**Chapter Three**

**McCormick**

"Anne, Honey!" my mother's sweet voice from the kitchen shouted as I hopped down the last step of the dark wooden staircase. She seemed like she hadn't heard the stairs creak as I walked down them. It was either she didn't hear, or she didn't want to hear. Sometimes I wondered if she had selective hearing. "Could you go out and stop by the shop to grab us a pint of milk?!"

My forehead creased when my gaze hit the sofa, noticing that the space where Eric had been sitting was empty. It had only been an hour, and although he was expected to be awake after that amount of time, my mother shouldn't have been in the kitchen doing whatever she was doing, considering she had promised Ms. Cartman to drop him off.

Perhaps my mother had left earlier with Eric without me noticing, considering I was too caught up in listening to music and straying away to the strange side of YouTube to notice any commotion or noise coming from downstairs. My mother was quiet when she wanted to be, and if Eric had correctly taken his pills, then he would be just as quiet as her.

As I took a step towards my boots, I realised something. Eric's shoes were gone, but both my mother's and my fathers were in the same place they had been when I last looked at them. They were at the exact same angle, in the exact same place and at the exact same distance apart from each other. It was as if they hadn't been moved. _What if they haven't been moved?_

I slipped the boots onto my feet and grabbed my coat from the coat rack. The material under my fingers was warm as I wrapped it around me, putting my arms through the long sleeves that were a little too long for me. My mother always said that I needed a small, more fashionable coat, but I liked how long it was, it kept me warmer when out in the snow and I didn't find the brown at all disgusting like my mother did.

"Anne?" My mother said as though it was a question, which made me turn towards her with a puzzled look crossing my face. Her stare moved from the sofa to me, a concerned look flashing on her features. "Did you see where Eric went?"

_Mother didn't take him home?_ "I thought you took him home."

My mother blinked as though I was speaking a foreign language, and her eyes had widened like she had seen a ghost. Obviously, my father hadn't taken him home either, since my mother would have realised that if he left. Besides, my father wasn't very keen on Eric, and he couldn't care less if Eric stumbled over a cliff or not.

"If you're** really** that worried, I'll stop by Ms. Cartman's to check if he's there. If he's not there, then he's probably with his friends." I shrugged my shoulders at her. If she was really worried about Eric, even though it wasn't her own child, then I would make sure that he was safe enough. "He has friends, you know."

Mother nodded her head as if to agree with me. I turned towards the door and twisted the door handle that my fingers had wrapped around. The metal was cool as though the cold Colorado snow on the other side of the door had fallen onto the handle and was radiating the harsh temperature through the metal. I yanked the door open with hardly much strength, the force knocking be back a little.

A scowl crossed my face when my eyes fell on the large stature of a boy standing in the snow, staring into space like he was watching some brilliant _Terrance and Phillip_ episode on a cinema-screen-sized television. His hat was crumpled in his hands, and his brown hair was just as messy as it had been when he had been passed out on my sofa. From the back, he seemed like a perfectly normal day-dreaming teenage boy.

_Finding him was way too easy._

A huff slipped from my closed lips, which I had thought was impossible until then, but my annoyance with Eric had gotten too much, and if I had stolen his gun from his bedside table – which everyone knew was there – I would have shot him in the head just to get him away from me and my family. He wasn't my friend, and looking after him was painful, especially when I didn't sign up for the job when I moved to South Park.

My boots crunched on the snow when I stepped out of the house, shutting the door after me. Eric hadn't moved, even when the sound of the door echoing, he didn't flinch or move at the loud noise. He continued to stare at thin air, something that a mental patient would do. My father had always said he should have been put into a mental asylum, maybe he was right.

It wasn't until I grabbed his wrist he was pulled out of his day-dream. He attempted to snatch his wrist out of my hand, but my grasp was a little too tight for his doped up mind and body, his arm relaxing when he had finally come to terms with the fact he wasn't going to get away from me that easily.

From the angle I was standing – next to him and looking up to study every change in features, he hadn't seemed to look as unattractive as everyone called him. His skin was clear from any blemishes, his eyes were a gorgeous shade of blue and the way his hair looked as though he had only just gotten out of bed made for the perfection his mother always told him he had.

_Too bad he hasn't got Kyle's personality._

"Come on." My voice was more of a sigh than anything else, but my words were audible. I began to drag Eric towards the corner shop. My mother always told me Eric didn't get out very often, and when he did, everyone ignored him. _Karma._ "Let's go to the shop."

Eric stayed quiet, barely trying to make an escape. His tugging was useless, and so were the many attempts to stand there and refuse to move. There was a reason no-one liked hanging around with Eric; one of those reasons was because he used to be a complete jerk when he was younger, and another reason was because his mind was so numbed up, he seemed distant – like he was millions of light-years away from earth and reality.

Sometimes my mother wished I got along better with Eric, she quite often said that we would make good friends. She told me that Eric would make a much better friend than Craig, but as Tweek and I tried to stress, Craig wasn't my friend in the first place. He was my **best** friend's friend, Craig and I didn't like each other, we just hung around with each other for the sake of hanging around with each other.

Perhaps my mother was right, perhaps Eric would make a good friend, but with the way he treated Kyle and Kenny when he was younger, I didn't want to chance being his friend. Besides, Eric made it clear when we were thirteen that I wasn't welcome in his little group, and I never would be welcome because I was a **girl**.

The walk wasn't very long, but with Eric acting like a five-year-old child, it felt like I had been walking for years on end without any stop. My hand slipped from his wrist when we stopped to a halt, and the next thing I felt was his finger's entwining with mine. They seemed to interlock perfectly like the two last puzzle pieces that were needed to complete the puzzle portrait.

If my mind hadn't have wandered to something – someone else, then I would have pulled away and told him to not touch me, but with the sight before my eyes, it was near impossible to talk. One boy walked past the shop, laughing and joking with one of his other friends. He was the image of what most people was call 'sexy', and he made my head feel light every time I would see his legendary smile.

**Kenny McCormick.**

He was with Stan, who was drinking some type of beverage – most likely a beer or some alcoholic drink – with him, something that was illegal for their age – or so, it would have been illegal if I were back in England. I had no idea about the laws in Colorado, and I had no intent in learning their laws. Hopefully, sooner or later, I would go back to my home town and go back to my old friends. However, back on subject, I was sure it was illegal, and even if it wasn't, it couldn't have been morally right. Not at their age.

_No wonder Kyle isn't with them._

Kenny pushed some of his blonde hair out of his face, the hood to his dirty orange parka down as the snow that was gradually falling fell onto him. He made my heart flutter like a butterfly, and it was so intense I nearly rushed to the doctor's surgery to check I didn't have something wrong with my heart. He was so hot, so sexy, so bad. Everything I wanted, and everything I needed.

I could feel warm breath on the back of my neck, making my hairs stand on edge, then a blow of air near my ear, blowing the fly away hairs that had fallen out of the ponytail I had put my hair into. My attention had moved away from Kenny a long time ago, and instead my jaw was working like I was obviously trying to keep back the swears that were perched on the tip of my tongue.

"You're never going to have him." Hearing Eric's voice wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world, actually it was hardly bearable, but at least he had taken my thoughts away from Kenny. Any longer thinking about him and I would have fainted like those girls in those movies. "He has every single girl falling at his feet, giving him whatever he wants. Why would he want to date someone – why would he want to date **you**?"

Eric was like the voice at the back of my head, telling me that I was worthless and I would never get what I wanted. Lucky enough, I was able to get rid of that voice, and getting rid of Eric couldn't have been much harder. He was a living being, all I had to do was kick his arse like Wendy had done many a times.

Eric mumbled something that sounded an awfully lot like 'you deserve better', but that wasn't usually Eric's way of talking, even on his medication. Eric wasn't ever nice, and saying I deserved better was more of a compliment than an insult, unless he was trying to use some sort of ugly, hurtful trick.

My head turned towards him, my forehead creasing into a frown that had been wanting to break out ever since I had heard him talk. Eric **never** talked outside, and he barely talked in his own home. "What?"

"Nothing," he retorted quickly in a quiet voice, moving his head away from mine. His face was emotionless like always and his eyes looked dead as though he had died inside from a stab to the heart many years ago. _Nothing? He can't be serious._


End file.
